


What If?

by misaffection



Category: Farscape
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 13:18:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misaffection/pseuds/misaffection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene from The Choice, because my muse likes angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What If?

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at Terra Firma, July 2008.

“What if I'd said yes?”

The words were soft but Aeryn jumped at them, whirled to stare at Crais. He leant against the door she did not hear either open or shut, his expression bleak. She glanced at the bed, at the pistol on top of rumpled covers, measuring the distance.

“Go ahead,” he said in that same, toneless voice. “I am unarmed.”

“What do you want?” she snapped.

“An answer.” He looked at her and she saw something shift in his eyes.

She snorted. “What do you want to hear Crais? The fantasies are yours and Talyn's.” She tilted her head. “Do you want to hear mine?”

“No.” His head dropped and he gazes at the floor. “I know yours.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because Xhallax is here and you are in danger. I made a promise that–”

Aeryn gave a harsh laugh, interrupting him. “You're keeping a promise?” she asked, her tone disbelieving. “You?”

Crais looked up at her. “Yes. Whether you believe that or not.”

“Dren,” she said and walked towards him, hips swaying. She watched him watch her, his eyes dark. But his expression remained bleak. “What do you want?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“So what? You decided to come and chance your luck? Are you really that stupid?”

“I came because Stark is driving me insane with his fussing. I came because Rygel refused. I came because someone needs to make you see sense.”

Aeryn stepped closer. She watched him for a microt, and then took the fastener of his jacket. His eyes darkened further as she slid it down, and his breathing quickened. Yet his eyes fixed on a point somewhere behind her, his expression even more hopeless than it had been.

“So what if you had said yes?” Aeryn asked, her voice cold. Her hand has reached the bottom of the fastener and she slipped a hand under the fabric. He stiffened as she trailed teasing fingers over his abdomen, circled them lightly, drifting upwards as she watched his face.

He stared at the opposite wall, attempted to ignore her touch. “You would not see me,” he said flatly.

“What if I did?”

That brought his attention down. “Don't,” he said, the word almost a plea. “I know you love him and even if you didn't, that you do not care for me.”

Aeryn shrugged. “Does that matter? It's just sex.”

She ran her hand over his chest. The scars from the bleedback were rough under her palm, a sharp reminder of the time she was joined with Talyn. Her gaze dropped and she opened the jacket. The sores were still healing and she felt a surge of sympathy for him that surprised her.

She leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on the one that ran along his collarbone, heard his intake of breath. She chuckled softly and he grabbed her upper arms, pushed her away.

“Enough,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I will not play your games.”

“Oh have I hurt your feelings, Bialar?” she mocked.

He let go of her and stalked to the window. “Tell me,” he said quietly. “Why do you hesitate to return to Talyn? Or is it finding Moya that gives you pause?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” she dismissed.

“Really?” He turned to face her. “Come on, Aeryn, I have seen them; you cannot possibly tell them apart. And whatever differences there are... well you can close your eyes.” He saw her flinch at that and smirked bitterly. “Have I hurt you now?”

Aeryn glared at him. “You wish,” she retorted. “But even the Crichton on Moya is better than you.”

Crais shook his head and gave a humourless laugh. “Perhaps. Are you going to tell him how your... relationship with his twin was? You should, and I think you would find one is as jealous as the other.”

“Or as you?” She stared at him as certain things clicked in her head. “Is this another attempt to get between us, Crais? To get what you want?”

“I do not need to try and get between you,” he said. Aeryn waited for the rest, tensed ready for the blow, but he seemed to catch himself and he turned away again with an audible sigh. “You think you are so unique, but you aren't. Love is not exclusive to you Aeryn. Nor is grief. You are not that special.”

Her anger fled and she sank to sit on the bed. Silence stretched for several microts, until the only thing she wondered was why he was still here. She glanced over her shoulder. He was at the window, that dreadful bleak expression on his face again.

“I know,” she said then, offered those two words as the only apology she was prepared to give.

He looked at her. “Will you come back?”

“Now?” She wasn't sure and shook her head. Her gaze fell on the pistol, and she picked it up. “I suppose. For all that I could be, it comes down to what I know.”

“No,” he said and walked over to the bed. He watched her play with the weapon, her expression closed, and reached out to cup her chin. He angled her face upwards. “Everything I told you was true; that I do see emotion in you. Stop pushing it away.”

She stood then, skimmed her palms over his still bare chest. “What if... what if I don't promise anything? If you said yes now...” She looked him in the eyes.

“For what purpose?” he asked.

“To help me forget... for just a little while.”

They both knew it was not what either truly wanted.

Crais hesitated, but he was not that much a better man that he was going to refuse. “Come back to Talyn,” he requested. “It is safer there.”

Aeryn sighed. He did not realise Talyn was as full of ghosts as Valldon. “What then?”

“What do you want?” he asked seriously.

She looked away. “I don't want... anything. You know that.”

“I do.”

“Then what do you want?” She lifted her eyes to his but she could not work that out.

“Oh nothing much,” he replied, his tone sour. “Just everything I cannot have.”

Aeryn waved vaguely at the room. “All that and more.”

“How far back would I have to go?” he asked her. “What if I never declared you contaminated? What if–”

He got no further because she kissed full on the mouth. He grabbed her waist, pulled her in close and she gasped against his lips. She tasted of raslak and tears, bittersweet. He felt the sharp edges of her grief cut into him and wanted to eradicate that pain.

Aeryn closed her eyes.

_And do you know what, Bialar... I never recreated with Crais... If I close my eyes..._

_What if..._


End file.
